I looked up from the newspaper as I felt heavy drops hitting the back of my neck. Cold wet heavy drops.
The spattering of drops in the puddles was confirmation of what I felt.
And the pages of the newspaper, an editorial imploring leaders in Washington to learn to compromise, very droll, got wet suddenly.
The clouds had moved in on us while I wasn't paying attention and suddenly we were wet. It felt okay though, my hair got plastered to my skull, water dripped off my elbows, Cheyenne's fur got dark with water, but we weren't cold and the car was two hundred yards away. The biggest deal was rinsing the mud off Cheyenne when we got home ad toweling both of us vigorously. Summer rain is no big deal, gone as fast as it came.
People in town are talking to my wife about the big red blob of potential tropical weather approaching the Antilles. I am betting it won't amount to much. Famous last words.
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